Eve's Photo Album
by Swissmounty
Summary: Eve sticks photos of her family and friends into her album. Set June 1993
1. Chapter 1

**Eve's Photo Album**

_Author's note:_  
_Warning for all Chief-only fans: he won't be in every single picture!_

* * *

**Chief Ironside**

It makes sense to start my album with this picture – or rather these pictures.

They date from my last year on Robert's team, 1971, and they remind me of a hilarious story.

Robert was a demanding, sometimes gruff boss. But on the other hand he was incredibly witty and liked to make some really funny pranks, like this one at Fran Belding's expense:

He had known Fran since she had been a kid, because Captain Dave Belding, her father, was a good friend of his. At a fairly young age she applied to the police academy. Of course the Chief got to know that she was accepted before she knew it herself.

When she got the good news she stormed up to his office – for the first time ever – to tell him. He was 'very impressed' and congratulated her.

"Listen, Fran," he said thoughtfully, "I have a problem here. And since you will be a colleague of mine soon, I'd like your advice."

Of course Fran was flattered and eager to oblige. "If you think that I can be of any help..."

The Chief pulled out three pictures, the three I'm sticking into my album now, together with one of a grinning Chief. "See, we have three suspects of a felony. I know that you haven't had much of a psychological training. This is yet to come. But just look at these pictures and tell me what you think of them. Which one or which ones would you think could be culprits in a murder case?"

Highly interested she looked at the three pictures. They showed three very different young people:

A blonde girl clad in... not much actually, but wearing too much make-up instead. She had to be a dancer in an oriental bar or something. She was posing for the photo in a very sexy, challenging way.

The second suspect was an Afro-American. He had a black eye, a torn shirt and was looking grimly at the camera.

The third one was a tall, lanky Caucasian, standing in a lineup of suspects.

Fran tried to be impartial.

"I would like to rule out the woman, but she seems to have a work which could get her in contact with all sorts of people. She could be at risk of being sexually assaulted, the way she is dressed. Could she murder an assailant? Maybe.

"It's always a danger that one prejudges Afro-Americans. This one looks as if he was in a fight. It may have been a deadly fight, we don't know that.

"The white man looks fairlyharmless, but that doesn't mean anything. He was in a lineup already. Nobody could identify him, otherwise you would not call him a _possible_ suspect. But since you show me his picture he's still a suspect, right?

"I would like to take a very close look at each of them and grill them thoroughly."

"Unfortunately the young woman is not available right now, but you may do that with two of them. Meet my friends, Ed Brown and Mark Sanger!"

The door to Mark's room opened and out came two of the 'suspects', grinning widely.

"Chief, that was wily of you to take a picture of me after that little run-in with an old neighbor," grumbled Mark mockingly.

Ed was surprised at the picture someone had taken of him when he had been a suspect of the murder of Frankie Baum*.

"Eve looked great as an oriental dancer though, didn't she?" laughed Mark.

"Hi, Fran. Congrats on your success!" said Ed.

It hit Fran like a blow when she understood that the Chief had set her up. Yet she was too happy to bear a grudge against anybody.

"Everything you said was correct, Fran, just the premise was wrong. This leads to the fact that you will soon have to work in the same department as these dubious characters. I want you to remember this: Always keep an open mind." Sternly he turned towards his amused staff members. "That goes for you too!"

With that, Fran's honor was restored, and she was solemnly invited to a big bowl of chili.

* * *

* S3 "Seeing Is Believing"


	2. Chapter 2

**Fran**

In my hand I'm holding two pictures of Fran Belding. One was taken at our wedding. How did she manage to maintain her lovely slender figure? In my opinion she could still run for "Miss America" today. Her fine, clear features mirror her caring, but also strong soul. Over the years she has become my best friend. Who would have thought that after our first meeting, of which the second picture reminds me! It shows Fran and the Chief with dessert forks digging into an indefinable mash in a cardboard box. Today I laugh about it, but back then it didn't seem too funny at first...

It was in autumn 1972, when Ed returned from his stay in the Craig Institute in Los Angeles. I was so happy that he was on his feet again, after it had seemed that he would remain paralyzed*. I wanted to organize a little party. Therefore I had bought a huge fancy cake. I met the Chief in the elevator. Ed, Mark and Fran were busy booking some criminals, as I was informed. I opened the door for the Chief, but he let me step ahead. Unsuspectingly I walked down the ramp, my eyes on the huge cake box I was carrying. Suddenly I stumbled over a string and together with my beautiful gift box I found myself lying on the floor! That's how Fran, who entered at the same moment, saw me for the first time.

She was horrified. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

"No, I'm all right," I answered angrily, "but I doubt that I can say the same about my fancy cake!"

I have probably never made a bigger fool out of myself than at that very moment.

The Chief eyed me concerned, but when I stood up without any trouble he started to guffaw. "My dear Eve, usually we use basketballs to throw around, not cake boxes. But whatever you prefer...!"

It turned out that while Ironside was at the Commissioner's, the team had made an experiment with the string on the ramp. Suddenly it had become clear who the culprits of the crime they were busy solving had to be. They had hurried out to catch them... and left the string as a tripping hazard!

Now the boys entered, Ed hardly limping anymore. I managed to set the priorities straight again. There was no reason to complain about a ruined cake when my old friend had just been cured in an almost miraculous way.

We opened the box. The content looked like a mix between Swiss muesli ... and chili!

We sat unceremoniously down around the box, everyone armed with a dessert fork. We agreed that this was exactly the way a fancy cake had to be eaten: The Chief savored the areas of rum-soaked biscuit, Fran and I shared the pieces of fruit, Mark and Ed fought for the cream.  
It turned out that Fran and I felt attached to each other right from the beginning, and that wasn't only because we had to join forces against the men. We laughed so much that afternoon that my belly kept hurting for hours... or maybe it hurt from the amount of fancy cake I had eaten.

* * *

S6 "Five Days in the Death of Sgt. Brown"


	3. Chapter 3

**Our Parents**

This is an old black and white photo. Unfortunately I have never known Ed's parents. They passed away long ago. His father was a tall, slender man of Irish origins*; from his mother he has inherited his soft brown eyes.  
Ed said once that he has some wonderful memories of his parents. They must have been common, hard-working people, and Ed had a childhood without any luxury – very different from mine. But he says that he was a happy kid and that he wanted for nothing, although he often worked nights during high school already to support his early widowed mother.  
I would like to repay them the love they gave my husband and which allowed him to become the wonderful man he is now.

* * *

My own parents are still in good health and looking very distinguished. Their picture was taken on the morning of our wedding day.

At first I wasn't sure if they were happy with my marrying Ed.

We went to see them right after Ed had proposed to me**, since he wasn't cleared for duty anyway. My mother was shocked when she saw him for the first time in more than twenty years.  
She'd had a soft spot for him since he had helped find her jewelry in 1968***.

"Are you ready to become a widow a second time, honey?" she asked me while he was out of earshot. "Edward Brown is burning his candle at both ends. He used to be so athletic, and now... I'm sure he's a good man. But how long will you be allowed to have him with you?"

"Better one year of happiness than thirty of strife!" I answered hotly.

"Eve, happiness is all we've ever wanted for you."

* * *

When I entered our little house around 8 am on our wedding day the door was unlocked.

"Hey, Ed!" I shouted.

He appeared with a paint pot in one hand and a brush in the other, wearing rugged jeans and a T-shirt of indefinable color which seemed to date from his Marine days. Both were sprinkled with cream-colored and light blue paint spots.

Ed had promised to paint my closet before we would move into our 'new' home. Actually it wasn't new at all, but we both fell in love with it at first sight.  
Yet then he was too busy in the office and didn't get to keep his promise.

He grinned from ear to ear. "Hi, beautiful! I'm almost done with the closet _and_ the spare bedroom on the first floor."

"Ed! That's wonderful!"

Stretching his arms out to keep brush and pot as far away from me as possible, he bent down and kissed the tip of my nose.

"Your clothes are a symbol for our wedding. May it be colorful!" I said happily.

He laughed. "Five minutes and everything will be finished."

"Meanwhile I could prepare breakfast."

"Sounds great!"

When he showed up again he had cleaned his hands, but not much more.

I restrained myself – this was my wedding day after all, and I hadn't bought the dress too large. But it was a delight to see Ed dig in for once.

"When did you start this morning?"

"3 am."

So it was no wonder that he was hungry!

I almost felt sorry that I had to remind him to clean up and change, "My parents have a tendency to be early, you know."

He jumped up. "I can't risk your mother getting a heart attack at seeing me like this."

He headed for the bathroom but stopped when suddenly the screams of a child were heard outside.

He would not have been Ed Brown had he not run out to see what was going on. I followed a little slower.

The child was a little boy, Alex. He lived further down the road, towards the open space.

Ed kneeled down at his side.  
Alex pointed up to a birch tree in our neighbors' garden, "Hercules is up there!"

Now I noticed what he meant: a tiny kitten was sitting on a branch of the tree, meowing pitifully.

As was to be expected my knightly Ed, who could not stand to see a child cry, started to climb up the tree immediately.

Behind me I heard a car approach. It was a taxi. My parents, who had spent the night at The Westin Denver Downtown, got out of it.

Together we observed the exciting rescue of the kitten. It had climbed even higher up the tree until it was hanging helplessly from a tree branch.

Ed followed, seemingly easily. For once his being so tall was an advantage. He managed to catch the little beast. How would he come down with it now? He needed one hand to hold Hercules.

Somehow Ed managed to get both the anxious animal and his lanky figure down from the tree in one piece each.

He gave the boy his pet back. "I'd rather keep Hercules inside the house until he's used to you," he advised Alex.

The boy nodded, beaming with joy, while traces of tears still lined his face.

Without much success Ed tried to brush dirt, leaves and pieces of wood off his clothes. Then he stepped out of the garden. But he didn't get to return – Alex's siren went off again!

_No, not again,_ I sighed, and Ed seemed to think along the same line.

Hercules had jumped off Alex's arms and escaped. Ed ran behind him.  
I noticed how impressed my parents were about his unexpected speed.

We could not see what happened to the cat since Ed turned the next corner, but only a few minutes later he showed up again – with Hercules!

This time he carried the kitten to Alex's home, giving it back to the boy's mother. I was quite glad since we had some other plans for that day than catching kittens.

Ed returned sweaty, dirty, with ruffled hair – reminding me of Errol Flynn's "Captain Blood".  
When he noticed my parents his face turned a shade paler. "Err – I'm sorry - Howard, Marion, this wasn't exactly planned that way..."  
Then he showed his disarming smile, laughing about his own wrecked timing, and I knew that he had won my mother's heart, no matter what his clothes looked like.

"The police – always ready to serve and protect," remarked my dad. "Don't worry, son-in-law. I suppose you painted my daughter's house _before_ this impressive rescue. If you always take care of her affairs first, then I can't see a problem."

Finally I offered my parents some coffee – after having cleared the table – and Ed took his much needed shower.

My mother hugged me tenderly. "Your husband-to-be still needs some feeding, but after what we have seen today I'm confident that you two have a future together."

"I'm glad that this realization hit you in time," I smiled, "because I love him with all my heart."

My mother's next sentence came as a surprise, "We always knew that Ed Brown loved _you_, even before you married Sam."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was your decision. And we were happy that your marriage with Sam worked out well."

Unexpectedly my father threw in, "Ed would not have been able to handle you then."

"He would _what_?!"

"You were quite a handful then, my dear daughter. It is all right the way it is."

That was true. "You are right. It was a blessing that things worked out the way they did."

* * *

* I borrowed this idea from an unpublished story written by "Briroch". Thanks for your permission, dear friend!

** ff story "The Return of Ironside (TOS): Behind the Scenes"

***This happened in my ff story entitled "Contrasts", which is unpublished yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Mark and his family**

Next to another photo of a grinning Chief – actually he seems to grin on most of my pictures! – I have here a photo showing Mark with his family at our wedding; we haven't met since. He looked extremely dignified in his tux. Diana, his wife, is still a beauty. Their twin daughters wore identical pink dresses.  
Mark was Ed's best man at our wedding. Ed had talked to Robert about it and Robert had insisted that it be Mark. Of course Robert had nevertheless hold a speech of honor... very much to the amusement of our guests. Mark's daughter Cindy sang a song in church. It was very impressing. There's nothing like a gospel song performed by an African American!  
Her sister Sandra, the athletic one, wanted to contribute something to the party too. She challenged Ed at running, intending on scheming him with a twins' prank. Ed saw through it – he's a detective after all – and instead of running around he called a traffic warden and gave him an order. Then he walked without a ruffle of excitement to the kiosk nearby and bought two candy canes. When Cindy came running back – pretending to be Sandra having run in record speed – she was stopped by the traffic warden who threatened to give her a traffic ticket for 'running too fast in a public park'. Ed stepped by, 'coaxing' the traffic warden into pardoning his young guest, and presenting her with the candy canes for her and her sister...  
Mark looked as if he was very much tempted to tell his daughters the truth, and that's how the snapshot in my hand shows him.

Ed kissed me and whispered into my ear, "You wouldn't want to dance with me all sweaty, would you?"

My parents had hired a wonderful quartet. They instructed them to play a very slow dance at first since I had told them that Ed was an awful dancer.  
It turned out that it wasn't all that bad... in fact I felt quite comfortable in his arms, and with me in high heels our sizes fitted just perfectly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mark talking to the lead musician, and suddenly the rhythm changed to a Rock'n'Roll... and a very athletic one! Although I've always loved dancing I was so surprised that I stumbled and almost fell, but Ed's strong arm was there to steady me. After that I had the impression that my feet hardly touched the ground anymore. Ed swung me around with expertise and obvious joy. Soon Mark joined us with Diana, and others followed. When the song was over Ed led me back to my seat with a broad smile on his face.

"Now we are both sweaty!" I complained, though smiling.

Suzanne and Jerry danced past our table, "Hey, old folks, are you already tired?" quipped my daughter.

"Who says so?" Ed laughed and pulled me back to the dancing floor.

Two songs later he noticed that I started to stumble over my feet. Therefore he danced with Fran, Suzanne and Diana. Mark led me off the dancing floor, as much out of breath as me.

"Like daughter like father!" I accused him when I had caught my breath back. "This was your scheme, Judge Sanger! How did you do it?"

"The year after you had left I talked Ed into taking a class in Rock'n'Roll dancing with me. It was a matter of honor for him to be as good as me... well, almost," he grinned. It was true, Mark had always had the natural elegance in his movements Ed lacked.

"But it was you who nursed him back to health. Last winter the dude didn't look that good. The training with his juvenile crooks probably did its bit too...," he meaningfully patted his magistrate little belly.

"I wish you and Ed as much happiness as I have with Diana. There's just one thing missing..." his glance wandered off to the table where his lovely daughters were sitting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Danny***

Looking at this picture I can imagine what Ed looked like as a twelve-year-old: skinny, with arms and legs seeming too long for his body; a serious look on his face, his hair neatly parted on the right side. People who don't know the truth would never suspect that we have adopted Danny.

"Mom, will you be here when I come home from school?"

"Yes, darling, I will be here."

I'm always here when Danny comes home from school. Still he needs to ask this same question every single day. He needs to be sure. His autistic universe can't bear any insecurity. "Mom, will you wake me at half past six?" - "Yes, I will." – "Mom, did you put a banana into my lunch box?" – "Yes, I did."

These invariable questions and answers seem to help him bring a pattern into his chaos.  
And then there is the one I always wish he would not ask. "Mom, will Daddy be home at nine?" –  
Ed does his best to be home to take Danny to bed every day. It's the most important appointed time of his day. But what if he can't make it one night? Danny would be heartbroken. He would feel betrayed. Therefore I say every day, "Yes, he will be home at nine. And if he can't make it he will call."

Ed tries very hard to spare as much time for Danny and me as possible. For some reason Danny clings to him much more than to me. Therefore Ed manages to teach him a lot more than I. He finds explanations which fit into Danny's kind of thinking. He performs handicraft work with him. He challenges him to do sports, even though Danny by nature doesn't like it at all. All this costs Ed a lot of energy, but it is incredibly rewarding. Danny's progress is almost a miracle for us.

At the same time Ed takes his duties as Chief of detectives very seriously. He still wants to do everything right, wants to please everybody – like the young Sergeant I knew decades ago. Therefore he rises at four in the morning almost every day, or he sometimes even works entire nights. I am a little worried about him, but up to now I am surprised about his stamina.

In spite of his handicap Danny is a blessing for us and we love him with all our heart.

* * *

_Author's notes:_

_* How Danny became Eve's and Ed's son is explained in ff story "Patterns"._

_This short chapter is dedicated to one of my wonderful readers - who knows what I am talking about - and to all relatives of children with special needs._


	6. Chapter 6

**Suzanne **

This is another picture from our wedding. My daughter didn't want to wear a dress at first. She's so used to her jeans. But she looks absolutely smashing in her figure-hugging yellow gown. How can a blonde wear yellow? Well, Suzanne can, and it is perfect! Almost every man at the party seemed to be at her feet.

She was happy about our wedding. She wanted me to be happy.

Yet it turned out that it isn't easy for her to work for the man who is at the same time her stepfather. Since Robert Ironside had definitely retired she could not go back with him to her former post in San Francisco. Of course Ed gave her the chance to remain in the Denver police department, as far away from him as possible. He was hoping that she would go back to the police academy sooner or later. She's smart and very talented, and she respects him as her boss. But there's still a role conflict. Ed tries to handle it with consideration and professionalism, but Suzanne is sometimes unable to restrain herself.

And then there's her problem: she still takes to drinking when she is in trouble.

For Ed, who doesn't drink at all because he wants to give a good example to his friends, the juvenile delinquents, this must be difficult to accept. But he never says a word about it. He has changed a lot. When I met him again last year he was extremely nervous. He managed to hide his anger at others and at himself from others most of the time, but I sensed it all the same, and it was probably one cause of his stomach problems. Now he is much more like the laid-back, calm sergeant I knew decades ago. He is very sensitive and empathetic though. "Give her some time," he says when she slips again... Suzanne knows it, and she even holds it against him that he is too patient towards her. Where is this going to end?

Last Wednesday was "one of those days". In the morning there was trouble at the hospital board I am a member of. When Danny came home he was in a bad mood. He announced that he would never go to school again. He does that every now and then. It would take Ed to calm him down and talk him into going back. Then I got a phone call. Suzanne had a car accident. Nothing serious, just a little bodywork damage. Her engine lost some oil and she left the car in the next car repair shop. I went to get her by car and I smelled that she had drunk again. Fortunately – or maybe it wasn't a fortune after all – the highway patrol hadn't caught her.

The way back was pure torture. I had Danny in the back since I could not leave him alone. Being hyper-sensitive, he instantly smelled the alcohol. "This smell makes me vomit!" he stated, held his nose and threw reproachful looks at her. "That's exactly what I need right now, a twelve-year-old smartass's reproaches!" nagged Suzanne. They kept fighting – never addressing each other directly, but only talking to me!

I could hardly concentrate on the heavy traffic across Denver at rush hour.

After I had taken Suzanne to her own apartment it was sleeping time for Danny... and Ed wasn't home.

I almost panicked.

Then I heard his car being parked.

"Sorry for being late, darling," he said while giving me a quick hug and hurrying on to put Danny to bed.

I was in the kitchen preparing dinner when he came back.

Briefly he put his hand on my back. "Don't bother, honey; I'm not staying. I have to go back to the office immediately."

For a moment I felt as if he had hit me. That's another one of my perpetual worries: my husband not eating well and regularly. I broke out in tears. "No – you can't do this! I'm cooking especially for you. Doesn't this mean anything to you at all?!"

Ed stopped dead in his tracks. He had been Robert Ironside's student long enough to know immediately that this wasn't just about cooking. Very gently he clasped my arms and turned me around. He had learned to think almost as quickly as the Chief, but he couldn't hide his thoughts the way Robert could. I read his face easily: He tried to understand what might have upset me, and I was sure that he came quite close to the truth. Almost desperately I threw my arms around his chest and pressed my face against his shoulder. He hugged me tightly, holding me firmly while I wetted his shirt with my tears.

The rice on the cooker started to smell like it was burnt. Quickly he pulled the pot from the stove top. Then he picked me up and carried me into the living-room, laying me onto the couch.

"I'm sorry..." I sobbed, trying to stop the tears. He found a Kleenex for me.

"It's me who has to be sorry, honey. I burdened you with too much. You bear my work, my impossible schedule, my absence, my inconsiderateness ... and Danny – I know how strength-sapping autistic children are... and Suzanne. I admire your strength, your caring for all of us and for everything, but I have taken too much for granted lately, and I have left you alone much too often. Please forgive me."

I had a bad conscience already. "I know that your work is important. I just wish you had a deputy!"

"So do I. But tonight I will call the officer in charge. He should be capable of handling the case at hand. He will have to stay a bit longer for once."

He did, and afterwards I told him everything. We thought about what we could do. Ed promised to be even more attentive to Danny. Our problem child was Suzanne though. We agreed that he wasn't the right person to talk to her about her drinking problem; she would not be able to accept it from him. I would have to do it myself. Still I felt relieved. My husband was there for me when I needed him.

Sooner or later my love and Ed's strength will have an effect on Suzanne.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ed**

This photo shows us both in our wedding clothes: Ed, tall and upright, in a very handsome dark suit and myself in an absolute dream of a cream-colored Chanel dress. My mother wanted me to have something beautiful, and I admit that I loved being the princess once more. The bridegroom shows his brightest smile. I love it when he smiles, always did, and always thought that he was a little too serious.

Yesterday he smiled too.

It all started out differently though:

One day last week Danny, who always wears long-sleeved shirts to cover his old scar*, came home from school with his shirt torn and his elbow scraped. Now that is nothing to worry about when a twelve-year-old boy comes home that way. Only – Danny doesn't climb in any trees, he doesn't play football, he doesn't get into any fights, so why should he have torn his shirt? He didn't want to talk about it.

The next day his pants were torn, and he didn't want to show his knee. And yesterday I heard a ruckus outside and ran out. Danny was lying on the ground, his hands scratched and another pair of jeans ruined. I saw a boy about his size, but larger, vanish around the next corner. By accident I knew that his name was Ted Brady since I knew his mother.

It took Ed to get Danny to talk about what had happened. Ted was Danny's classmate. Together with a few others he kept bullying Danny. Most of the time he didn't even hit him, he just pushed him or ran behind him, and often Danny ended up stumbling over his own legs.

When he was in bed Ed and I talked about what we could do to help him.

"We could show him some judo," I suggested, but Ed looked doubtful.

"You mean that it could be dangerous because his muscle tone is so low?" I asked.

"Yes, that too. And then – violence tends to create more violence. Even if he could fight Ted, it might not help. Ted might just call his friends, and then Danny might get hurt even worse. The best defense against violence is running away."

I was more than a little surprised. Ed himself had never been one to run away!  
Why did he want Danny to run?! I didn't question that right now though but objected, "Danny is not fast enough to get away. That's what they wanted – frighten him enough that he would stumble and hurt himself."

Ed nodded. "You are right. Danny can't handle this alone, I'm afraid. Let's take a walk, and you show me where this Brady family lives. Maybe I can talk to Ted tomorrow."

It turned out that Ted was still outside.

Ed talked to him in his quiet way, telling him that a strong guy like him didn't need to bully a weaker boy. That he trusted that Ted would find other, more adequate sparring partners.

"Oh, shut up! It's a shame that a moron like him is allowed to go to a regular school!"

Actually Danny is an excellent student, except that he hardly talks, which influences his marks in foreign languages and English. But he is still in the top ten percent.

Invisibly for Ed, who was standing with his back towards the house, a man came out – very probably Ted's father. He was a little shorter than Ed, but built like a tank.

Ed remained calm, but his voice was firm when he answered, "Your pestering him has to stop."

Brady stepped out onto the street now. "How dare you threaten my son, Mister!"

"Sir, let's talk about it quietly."

Brady's answer was a violent blow to Ed's midriff. I winced, imagining what this would do to my husband's stomach.

Meanwhile one of our neighbors had come by with a stranger. Of course they stood still and watched.

"That's enough, Brady," said Ed coldly, but Brady took another swing at him.

What would Ed do? I didn't remember him hitting others, not even when we were young.

The stranger wanted to step in and help Ed. I kept him back. A free-for-all fight was the last thing we needed right now.

"But Ma'am – this guy is big and brutal, he will hurt your husband! He already has!" objected our neighbor.

"Please don't interfere."

Ed could have simply used his gun to keep Brady at bay – but he didn't.

He sidestepped Brady's next blow; Brady missing him by millimeters.

Furiously the stronger man attacked him again. Ed's face was calm and concentrated. Again he avoided a blow. He looked like a dancer against the heavier man... or like a torero alongside a bull, if the picture of my Ed torturing an animal would not have been so outrageous.

Brady was now infuriated. He lost the rest of his self-control. When he lashed out again, Ed used his momentum to turn his arm onto his back. Brady panted and almost went down onto his knees. Ed stood just there and locked his arm.

Finally Brady surrendered. "All right, all right – you win. And I admit that Teddy pestered your son. I'll tell him to stop."

Ed let him go. There was no hatred in his face, and I was probably the only one who noticed how much self-restriction it cost him to keep stoic. He nodded. "I would be thankful," he said quietly.

Now it was Brady's turn to nod.

Rubbing his arm he took off.

"Sir, this was incredible! But tell me... you are the Police chief, aren't you? Why haven't you arrested that bully?" asked our neighbor.

Ed showed his rare smile. "I hate the paperwork which goes with it."

The bystanders felt relieved that the tension had calmed down and everybody laughed.

"So you managed to teach that guy a lesson for free. That suits us taxpayers well," joked the stranger.

* * *

When we were out of earshot I stopped, worried. "How's your stomach?"

"Fine."

Relieved I hugged my husband. "You did great! How come you are even better at judo than twenty years ago?"

"When we were young fistfights were never an issue. After my training in the marines and at police academy and with my size I usually had the advantage anyway. But when I felt that I couldn't maintain my weight I started to exercise techniques using my adversaries' weight to my own advantage."

"So much about running away!"

"I could hardly run when you were watching, could I?" he smiled.  
Then he turned serious. "I'm dreaming of a world where nobody has to run or to fight. That's why I am doing police work, and that's what I am praying for."

* * *

_* ff story "Patterns"_


	8. Chapter 8

**Robert and Katherine**

This photograph puzzled me at first. It shows a retired Chief Ironside with his beloved wife at our wedding. Like his beautiful, sophisticated Katherine he looks happy... but there is something different to the other pictures of him. I have to know what it is. It's not just that he is older now. That too, of course, although he looks remarkably youthful for his age. And love changes every woman and every man. But there is something else. I have to page backward to the older pics. Every time I shot him he looked directly into the camera, and somehow he seemed to grin mischievously – every time but on the last one. Did he laugh at me the first times? Did I have some lipstick on my cheeks or something? No, that could not be. Not every time. What had caused his unusual hilarity in the early photos?

They were all taken with my Canon F-1. It was a professional camera and I felt quite attached to it. Yet for our wedding Ed presented me with a brand new "EOS 5QD" with autofocusing system. Did the camera make the difference?

Out of nostalgia I had shot a few pictures with the old F-1 as well. There was one of Robert too... and here his grin was even more pronounced than on the old ones!

I shook my head in disbelief. What was it about that camera which made the Chief stare into the camera and laugh like a school boy?

Determinedly I phoned him. He was more than pleased. We still had this special bond which I had cherished half my life now. After the usual exchange of banter and good humor I asked him straight away about the pictures.

He let out a guffaw. "My dear Eve, maybe you should take a look at your old camera from the other side." I still heard him chuckle when I hung up.

What was he talking about?!

Quickly I unpacked the antique piece and turned it over.

In a gap, almost invisible, there was a tiny piece of paper. Why had I never seen it? With my fingernails I managed to pick it out. I unfolded it and turned red. Obviously our omniscient boss had known about it all along. It was a message of Ed Brown to Eve Whitfield, written around 1970. And it said... it said...

* * *

**_Author's notes_**

_Thank you, dear Lemonpig, for correcting this story (except the last chapter... I'm sure you will do that one as well as soon as the holidays are over ;-))_

_Thanks to everybody who read up to here. I know that these post-ROI stories don't meet everyone's taste, but there are people who like them, therefore I keep posting them - between others._

_About Suzanne's problem: this will be dealt with (partly) in another story which is written but not published._

_There is also a new crossover Ironside-SOSF with some "Chief" in the beginning and in the end ;-)_


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